Gumnut's Knight Rider Ficlet Collection
by Gumnut
Summary: A collection of ficlets not long enough to warrant their own story space. Some may contain spoilers for any season. Includes answers to challenges.
1. After Hours

After hours  
By Gumnut  
29 Jun 2004  
  
"This just isn't right."  
  
"What?"  
  
"This. What would Devon say?"  
  
"Nothing, because he is never going to find out." Pause. "Is he?"  
  
"Most certainly not from me. This is far too embarrassing."  
  
"For you?! What about for me? I have to wear this stupid hat."  
  
"Have you seen that monstrosity attached to my roof, Michael? As I recall, it was you who put it there in the first place."  
  
"Well, it is all for a good cause."  
  
"That is debatable."  
  
"My, aren't we a little touchy tonight."  
  
"I believe I have sufficient reason to be."  
  
"It was not my fault."  
  
"That is also debatable."  
  
"C'mon, Kitt, what's a little moonlighting here and there."  
  
"Is that what you call this? I simply call it demeaning."  
  
Sigh. "You're determined to make me suffer for this, aren't you?"  
  
"If only to remind you not to do that again."  
  
"It was not my fault."  
  
"I believe you've already said that."  
  
"Kitt, how was I supposed to know he was her boyfriend?"  
  
"You could have asked."  
  
"She could have told me!"  
  
"Calm down, Michael, we're nearly there."  
  
Steamy silence.  
  
"You know, you're right. This is humiliating."  
  
"It is only for a couple of nights, until he is out of the hospital. As you said, it is the least we can do."  
  
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Kitt."  
  
"Neither does that thing on my roof."  
  
"Live with it."  
  
"Now who's touchy?"  
  
"Can it, Kitt." Pause. "Is this the right place?"  
  
"According to our directions, yes. Be careful, Michael. There is a sign on the gate, 'Beware of the Dog', however I can not pick up the canine's location."  
  
"Thanks, Pal." Pause. "And I'm sorry. I know I got us into this, and Bonnie has every right to be angry, as do you-"  
  
"Michael, you only did what you thought was right. Bonnie will forgive you...eventually."  
  
Silence.  
  
Sigh. "Okay, thanks, buddy." He opened the door. "Keep your scanners peeled, we wouldn't want any of the bad guys to creep up on us would we?"  
  
Kitt's turn to sigh.  
  
Michael smiled as he closed the door, and, turning, opened the gate to the yard before bounding up the steps. Reaching the front door of the two-story house, he rapped on the elegant woodwork.  
  
A voice called out from inside. "Yes?'  
  
Michael Knight took deep breath.  
  
"Pizza delivery!"  
  
-------------------  
FIN.


	2. The Source

The Source  
By Numnut  
1 Jul 2004  
  
He could see him  
  
A ghostly figure sketched by moonlight. A pale face staring out into the dark, its features painted in milk. He stood on the terrace, the old stone, a mosaic of lichen and faded paint, cast in porcelain and sculpted by shadows.  
  
He could see him.  
  
A tall man, young in age, but aged by life. Two lives. His very stance reflecting those flickering thoughts that tortured him.  
  
He could see him.  
  
He crept along the track in the dark, his engine silent, mesmerised by the unguarded moment.  
  
The Knight Industries Two Thousand was fully capable of scanning the scene on several different frequencies. Infra-red, ultra violet, even the all revealing x-ray, but for the moment Kitt was content to rely on the moonlight, the silvery paintbrush sensitive to the mood.  
  
Today had been another day. A day of disappointment, of sacrifice, of yet another near miss that may have cost them everything, but Kitt knew that the risk to themselves was not what had brought the man out here alone.  
  
It had been the body in his arms.  
  
Yet another life squandered by the cruelty of fate.  
  
Kitt was not human, but he could feel. And as he watched his driver bounce from day to day, his natural optimism and zest for life, battered by circumstance and those tragedies he could not prevent, he worried that one day it would be just too much. One day he would have to watch his driver succumb to the beating this life continually gave him.  
  
And they would lose everything.  
  
He was programmed to protect this man, to save him from the dangers that haunted them. But there were some things that speed and strength could not prevail against, and as Kitt stared at the lonely figure, a mere pain-filled shadow in the dark, he was confronted by so much more than lines in a computer program.  
  
What he felt could not be coded. It was an ethereal thing unbound by logic and unfettered by the demands of reality.  
  
A risk.  
  
He could see him, sketched by moonlight.  
  
And he wondered.  
  
Wondered if Michael knew.  
  
Knew how much his life was the source of another.  
------------------  
FIN. 


	3. Supply and Demand

Supply and Demand  
By Gumnut  
21 Jul 2004  
  
He dashed into the supermarket, his harried state raising several eyebrows as he almost leapt over the entry turnstile. He ignored them all.  
  
"Where, Kitt?"  
  
"Aisle 15."  
  
His eyes tracked the signage, ticking off numbers and products. Ducking down the specified aisle, he found himself in the appropriate section.  
  
He scanned brand names and packaging. This, that, and everything but what he was looking for.  
  
"Kitt, I can't see it."  
  
The voice that came over the comlink had infinite patience engraved in its tone. "Third bay along, second shelf from the top, seventh container from the left." Aggravated sigh. "Please hurry, Michael, I have been located."  
  
He counted bays and shelves, finally his hand coming to rest on a spray can. Damn, you'd think they'd label it clearly. He held it near the comlink. "You sure, Kitt?"  
  
"Of course, Michael." Pause. "I can contact Devon now if you like."  
  
"NO!" A woman passing by him jumped at his yelp before frowning severely in his direction. "No. No, Kitt, I said I'd do it, and I'm doing it. Keep your hubcaps on."  
  
"I had no intention of taking them off. Just hurry."  
  
Glancing at the container in his hand one more time, he almost ran the length of the aisle, bounding towards an open checkout. Of course, an elderly woman with an overflowing trolley beat him to it. Such was his life at this particular moment in time.  
  
Damnit.  
  
He scanned the rather impressive array of checkout bays, of which only two were currently manned, both clogged with customers.  
  
Damn.  
  
"Michael, I'm afraid you may be too late. I should call Devon."  
  
"Damnit, Kitt. I said I'd do it." The look the obstructing elderly lady gave him clearly doubted his sanity. He frowned slightly at her and she looked away. So what if he was talking into his digital watch? It's a free country.  
  
If only she would get out of his way.  
  
------------------  
  
It took a while, but eventually he escaped the queue with both his life and the required product. His sanity however had been left at the counter along with that of the shop assistant's when as Michael handed over his payment, Kitt chose to urge him on a little more. He guessed that the poor man didn't get handed what appeared to be a talking credit card very often.  
  
He burst into the parking lot, scanning for his partner. Kitt had virtually thrown him out the door upon arrival and he had no idea where he had gotten to since.  
  
He shouldn't have bothered. A familiar whine crept up behind him, and before he could react, a black prow had caught him behind the back of his knees. Sitting down rather hard, he glared at the Trans Am. "Ha-ha, Kitt, very funny."  
  
"I thought so." Pause. "Well, what are you waiting for?"  
  
Michael glared at him. "For the other shoe to drop."  
  
"It was a simple request, Michael."  
  
"Accompanied by blackmail. And where are all these so called intruders anyway?"  
  
"At the edge of my scanner range, you can never be too careful."  
  
"Kitt, your scanner range is measured in miles."  
  
"And my patience with this matter in seconds. If you hadn't delayed so long, I wouldn't have had to resort to such tactics. Now, please, Devon's waiting."  
  
Michael's glare intensified, wondering where exactly Kitt had discovered this new talent. It had only been a small charge to his expense account, a little dinner, wine and dine, pleasant company, something that Devon would be unlikely to notice - unless it was pointed out to him. Michael had never even considered the possibility that he was dating himself into a life of servitude.  
  
He frowned, Kitt never forgot anything.  
  
How many times he was going to pay for this one? He could see a future decorated in classical music and logic games.  
  
With a defeated sigh he crouched down and began spraying Kitt's wheels with the newly purchased dog repellent. Sometimes life was just hard.  
-----------------  
FIN. 


	4. Dancing Sunlight

Dancing Sunlight  
A scene  
By Gumnut  
5 Jul 2004  
  
It sparkled through the shadows, dancing like a thousand individual lights. The blue of the sky beyond washed white by its brilliance.  
  
Sunlight.  
  
He was moving.  
  
Flat on his back.  
  
But moving.  
  
Sideways.  
  
He found it odd, but for some reason he wasn't worried.  
  
He lay back and idly watched the tops of the trees move slowly past, fascinated by the sunlit sparkle.  
  
His mind wandered.  
  
At some point he became aware of the rumble beneath him, the gentle thrum, and the silky smooth surface he was resting on. He found the rhythmic vibration comforting.  
  
The light continued to dance.  
  
Where was he?  
  
"Michael?"  
  
Kitt?  
  
"Michael, please do not move."  
  
"Kitt?"  
  
"I am here. You are safe. But you have been injured, please do not move."  
  
As if in rebellion, he twitched the fingers of his right hand. The cool feel of glass under his fingertips.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"Michael, there was an explosion."  
  
An explosion.  
  
Heat.  
  
Fire.  
  
Falling.  
  
"You fell."  
  
He fell.  
  
He twitched the fingers of his left hand and found his arm draped across his curiously numb body.  
  
"Please, Michael, don't move."  
  
"Why not?" He found the sound of his own voice suddenly startling.  
  
The trees continued to pass slowly above him, the dappled sunlight rippling across his face, and for a moment there was no answer.  
  
"Because I caught you." There was a hitch in Kitt's electronic voice. "You are injured, Michael, please do not move."  
  
And then it struck him as to where he was.  
  
Kitt's hood was warm under his back, though he must have tilted it upwards slightly to secure him from falling off. He was sandwiched between it and Kitt's windshield.  
  
Kitt was carrying him.  
  
The sunlight danced.  
  
The engine throbbed beneath him.  
  
Kitt had caught him. He had fallen.  
  
The sunlight danced.  
  
"Michael!"  
  
Kitt had caught him.  
  
"Michael!"  
  
The sunlight danced.  
  
He was safe. Kitt had him.  
  
"Michael, please!"  
  
Kitt?  
  
The sunlight danced.  
  
And faded away.  
----------------------  
TBC? 


	5. Cause and Effect

Cause and Effect  
An aimless scribble  
By Gumnut  
10 Aug 2004  
  
"It was your fault."  
  
"Was not."  
  
"Was too"  
  
"Was not."  
  
"Michael, denial in this case is entirely fruitless. I have it on video tape."  
  
"Oh, really, well let's see it then."  
  
"Not until you clean up this mess."  
  
"What are you, my mother?"  
  
"Some times I wonder."  
  
"And what is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"That I pity the poor woman who is."  
  
"Now, that is just a low blow, Kitt. What would your mother say if she heard you speaking like that?"  
  
"She'd agree with him."  
  
"Oh, hi, Bonnie, how are you today?"  
  
"Michael, how the hell did this happen? Look at him!"  
  
"It wasn't my fault!"  
  
"Was too."  
  
"Was not."  
  
"Was too."  
  
"Was not!"  
  
"Did you or did you not say it was a shortcut?"  
  
"I-"  
  
"Did you or did you not order me onto the footpath?"  
  
"But-"  
  
"Did I or did I not warn you about the ladder?"  
  
"Yes, b-"  
  
"Michael, it is simple. You were the cause and this is the effect."  
  
"Well, I had no choice!"  
  
"Irrelevant. You made the decision, therefore it is your fault."  
  
"You know, you can be a real pain in the-"  
  
"Michael!"  
  
"Bonnie, it was just an accident, I swear."  
  
"I'm sure it was, but regardless of whose fault it is, the mess still has to be cleaned up. Kitt can not go around looking like this."  
  
"Why not? I think it suits him."  
  
"Michael?"  
  
"Yes, I think we'll keep him this way. Might improve his disposition."  
  
"Michael."  
  
"Definitely an improvement I think. Though we might have to change his name to match. Hmm, how about Kitty? Got anything we can tack on the end that starts with a 'Y'?"  
  
"Michael!"  
  
"Of course, then we'd have to up the pitch of his voice box, perhaps make it more feminine to match the name."  
  
"MICHAEL!!"  
  
"Yes, Kitt?"  
  
Pause.  
  
"Kitt?"  
  
"While I am sure you appreciate the fact that my present condition is directly a result of your decision, I would like to recognise the fact that you had no choice in the matter and in the process of making that decision you saved several lives, including possibly your own, for which I am ever grateful."  
  
"Why, thank you Kitt."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Well, aren't you going to clean me up?"  
  
"I was just thinking that I could grow used to this."  
  
"Michael, there is no way on earth I am going to drive around dripping PINK PAINT!"  
  
"It was fate, partner. You, me, a bucket, and a ladder."  
  
"Michael! Michael? Michael, come back here. Please? Michael!"  
---------------------  
FIN. 


	6. Remember

Remember  
By Gumnut  
23 Jun 2004  
  
Little was known about the black wraith that appeared from nowhere and saved so many lives. Even less was known of the man who had given everything so that they could live.  
  
But they remembered.  
  
Remembered the screams.  
  
Remembered the tears of people fated to die.  
  
Remembered the look on his face as he made the ultimate decision. His leap.  
  
Remembered the car that drove itself, flung itself in to the path of the train, screaming as its chassis was mangled.  
  
Screaming out a name, over and over.  
  
"Michael! Michael, no! MICHAEL!!"  
  
A shot rang out.  
  
But the hijacked train slowed to a stop, the black Trans Am jammed up against the metal origami of the main engine.  
  
Inhuman whimpers echoing across the suddenly silent track.  
  
They found him collapsed over the emergency brake, determination frozen on his face, three hijackers unconscious on the engine compartment floor. He didn't see them, blue eyes staring into nothing, his lungs exhaling their last, a single word on his lips.  
  
"Kitt...."  
  
Those standing beside the mangled sports car were surprised as the continual whimpering suddenly stopped, and a voice whispered a name in amazement.  
  
"Michael?"  
  
And then there was silence.  
  
Most never knew his name, never knew the meaning behind the symbol on the semi that collected the crumpled wreck. Never knew why a woman pleaded with the black car, tears in her eyes, calling a name over and over again and receiving no answer.  
  
And most of all, never knew why.  
  
But they remembered.  
  
It was all the honour they could give.  
------------------  
FIN. 


	7. The Meeting

The Meeting  
An answer to the 'What if Michael was paired up with KARR challenge'  
By Gumnut  
10 Jul 2004  
  
It was dark. The only light was from a single spotlight shining straight down from the high ceiling, the single round patch of white on the concrete floor only making the surrounding darkness darker.  
  
He knew he wasn't supposed to be here, but Michael Long had never considered that fact to be hindrance in the past, and consequently was not hesitant in breaching the security system of the building in this instance either. He crept around as if he was an intruder, and technically he was, but he held no ill intentions. He just wanted to find out why.  
  
The white patch of light in the middle of the floor beckoned him.  
  
He made his way amongst shadows of equipment, his step silent and practised.  
  
He stepped from the dark into the light.  
  
It was silly really. One does not expose oneself to a fully lit area in a situation in which he did not want to be seen, but there was something about this room, something was here. Something was beckoning.  
  
A single light caught his eye.  
  
A red light in the dark.  
  
It flickered.  
  
Then caught and began to track back and forth.  
  
Michael stepped back slightly, suddenly wary.  
  
The red light tracked back and forth.  
  
Hypnotic.  
  
Suddenly the silence was shattered by an engine, and a pair of bright white lights suddenly bracketed the red, blinding him. A whine vibrated above the engine noise and suddenly the spinning of tyres on concrete added their own screech to the cacophony.  
  
The lights moved.  
  
He should jump out of the way. His mind screamed at him.  
  
He didn't know what it was, a vehicle of some sort. He should move. Run.  
  
But he held fast, something telling him that he would not be hurt.  
  
He braced his legs and the lights roared up to him.  
  
This was it, this was the answer. He would know why.  
  
The red light tracked back and forth, the headlights glared at him.  
  
And the car ran him over.  
  
Devon sat in the driver's seat, totally aghast, staring at the dashboard, speechless.  
  
A brief flash of green on the voice modulator.  
  
All KARR said was, "Oops."  
------------------  
FIN. :D 


	8. Hail

Hail  
A scribble for the word challenge 'hail'  
By Gumnut 14 Jul 2004  
  
He could see it coming, falling, the sun catching the dancing filaments and fragmenting the light spectrum.  
  
It was symbolic really. A shower of factors affecting his existence. A representation of all the changes that were now to be forced upon him.  
  
No, that was incorrect. He wasn't forced. That implied he was reluctant. He wasn't.  
  
Just a little scared.  
  
Of course, he was happy for Michael. If Michael was happy, so was he. It was the focus of his existence. But that was where the core of the problem lay.  
  
Michael was his focus.  
  
And Michael was leaving.  
  
Or so he told him. He had said the words, but he hadn't actually made a move yet. The fact that Kitt was where he was at this very moment spoke volumes, and he simply couldn't see himself anywhere else.  
  
Perhaps it was he who hadn't left, following his friend around like a lost soul.  
  
Because that was what he was.  
  
Lost.  
  
It frightened him.  
  
He couldn't speak to Michael about it. His driver was at the centre of his uncertainties. And Michael deserved his happiness, unfettered by frivolous concerns.  
  
Memories sparked across circuits. Pain. Terror. Michael tossed aside like a discarded rag, his life ebbing away.  
  
Yes, he deserved his happiness, had earned it beyond recompense.  
  
Even if it was at the sacrifice of Kitt's own.  
  
He stared at the people standing around him, all their merriment contrasting dramatically with his own mood.  
  
He felt so alone.  
  
The hail of coloured wedding confetti rained down on him, the brilliantly coloured particles slipping across his shell and scattering to the grass below.  
  
And for some reason his dreams went with them.  
-----------------  
FIN. 


	9. All in the Name

All in the Name  
Definitely for Shady  
By Gumnut  
11-16 Aug 2004  
  
"Thanks for the ride, Kitten sugah." A pair of highly polished nails met with an equally lacquered pair of lips before a smudge of that bright red lipstick was smeared on the Trans Am's dash.  
  
Kitt cringed. Ugh. Some people.  
  
He didn't dare say anything until he and Michael were halfway down the street.  
  
"Michael, that woman-"  
  
"Yes, Kitt, she is."  
  
He stared at his driver, attempting to ascertain his reaction. Michael had been known to find some of the oddest women alluring, and there was no way he was going to let this one through any of his doors again.  
  
Michael was smiling. Oh, no.  
  
"Michael, what is she?"  
  
"Oh, uh, I was just thinking that perhaps now that the case is over, we might have a little free time. I wonder if Darlene is busy tonight."  
  
Definitely not good.  
  
"Michael, you can not be serious."  
  
His driver frowned. "Why not?"  
  
"That woman...she...I have lipstick all over my dashboard!"  
  
Michael chuckled. "Yeah, she sure took a shine to you, buddy."  
  
"A shine? She tried to polish me off. If I hear the name 'Kitten' one more time, I declare I will not be responsible for my actions."  
  
"Kitten? I thought it was kinda cute."  
  
"Cute! Michael, I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand. I'm sleek, I'm black, and I'm fast. I am NOT cute!"  
  
His driver was laughing again.  
  
"What is so funny?"  
  
He continued to chuckle.  
  
"Michael?" Kitt forced warning into his tone.  
  
"I'm sorry, Kitten. I was just wondering if you could purr." The grin on Michael's face was sickening.  
  
So that's the way you want to play it, huh? Well, two can play that game. "That's okay, I'm sure I can work out an approximation just for you, Mickey."  
  
The grin disappeared.  
  
"Mickey?"  
  
"Or would you prefer 'Mikey'?" Kitt put just the right amount of snide innocence into his tone.  
  
"Kitt, you know I prefer Michael."  
  
"Hmm, how about 'Michaela' or 'Michelle'? Those two sound particularly pleasant."  
  
"Kitt-"  
  
"Mike?"  
  
"Kitt-"  
  
"I think I prefer 'Mickey'. As you know, I have a fondness for mouse jokes." Michael's face was just a nice shade of pink.  
  
"Kitt, I think I get the message."  
  
"You sure, Mickey? Because if I happen to hear one more instance of the nickname 'Kitten' I might just slip and delete any other reference to your name from my memory, and then where would we be?"  
  
"Kitt, can it."  
  
"Anything you say, Mike." Ooh, that glare had some serious wattage.  
  
"Okay, okay, Kitt. That's a big 'no' on nicknames for the both of us."  
  
Score one for the AI today.  
  
The two of them stewed over that conversation for the next couple of blocks, Kitt eyeing Michael, wondering when his driver was going to turn the conversation back to its original direction, namely Darlene of the glow-in-the-dark-pink fingernail polish.  
  
He could almost have counted down. "Kitt, would you mind if I invited Darlene out tonight?"  
  
Kitt blinked. You're asking me?  
  
"Michael, it is not my place to tell you who you can and can not date."  
  
He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, that's a first. What? No snarky comments about my choice in women? No dry snipe about the number of lovely ladies I entertain?"  
  
"Michael, please remember I am only here for your benefit."  
  
The blue eyes widened, darting across his dashboard to fix on his voice modulator. Kitt picked up on the fact that Michael had suddenly lost interest in driving and smoothly took over before the Trans Am took off up the footpath.  
  
"Don't you think your opinion matters to me?"  
  
"I-"  
  
"Buddy, you're my best friend. Of course your opinion is important."  
  
His voice subroutine suddenly found a hitch and froze.  
  
"Kitt?" Michael frowned. "What do you think of Darlene?"  
  
"Michael, it is your choice."  
  
"Kitt, please."  
  
"I-" Was this fair? Was it right?  
  
"I am not the only one who has to share the company in this passenger seat, pal. You have the right to object if you want."  
  
Kitt didn't answer.  
  
"C'mon, buddy, please."  
  
Okay. "I-I don't like her." He was surprised at how tentative his voice sounded.  
  
Michael's expression didn't change. "Thankyou for your honesty, Kitt."  
  
"I'm sure she is a nice enough woman, Michael. Please don't hesitate on my behalf. I doubt there are many people out there who ask their car whether they like their date or not."  
  
"But you are not my car, and we are in a rather unique situation, pal." Michael's tone was still light, but the underlying sobriety of his words touched Kitt deeply.  
  
"Thankyou, Michael."  
  
He frowned. "For what?"  
  
"Your respect."  
  
"Couldn't give you anything but." He put his hands back on the steering wheel, and Kitt complied with the unspoken request, releasing control of the Trans Am. "So feel like a cruise down the coast? I'm sure Devon can be persuaded to give us the night off." Michael smiled. "If not, there is always the option of 'hooky'."  
  
Kitt projected a smile into his voice. "Devon still hasn't forgiven us for the last time we played that game."  
  
"In that case, he won't have to go to the effort of getting angry all over again. He can just maintain a pleasant simmer." The smile became a grin.  
  
"Michael, you are incorrigible."  
  
"Yep, I believe I am. So coast or country?"  
  
"Coast."  
  
"Then coast it is. Find us a highway, buddy, I feel the need for speed."  
  
Kitt grinned to himself, flicking through electronic maps before throwing one at his display. Michael fiddled with the stereo, and the cabin was suddenly filled with the one piece of music the two of them had managed to agree upon.  
  
The AI was abruptly reminded of a conversation he had had with his brand new driver in the parking lot of a service station in Silicon Valley, that first mission, that first time. He had asked for some simple consideration from the man he had been made for.  
  
And now...  
  
He had received so much more.  
  
He grinned to himself, the image of Michael wearing black mouse ears springing from an errant memory cluster. He did so ask for it.  
  
He stared up at his driver, now singing along merrily to the music.  
  
What would he do without his Mickey?  
----------------  
FIN. 


	10. Silence

Silence  
A 15 minute scribble  
By Gumnut  
Jul 2004  
  
Silence.  
  
The absence of sound.  
  
There should be the hum of a familiar engine. There should be an answer to his call, a worried voice yelling his name.  
  
But there was nothing.  
  
Silence.  
  
He crept around the building, dragging his battered body as quietly as he could, dreading what he would find. His hands brushed against peeling paintwork as he stumbled, the old saltwater encrusted wood slowly crumbling against the force of the elements.  
  
He had to find out.  
  
Somewhere a lone seagull cried plaintively as he finally made it, finally turned the last corner.  
  
The car was there.  
  
What was left of it.  
  
No longer shining in the sun, black soot coated it, the crumpled shell, ripped outwards from within, its stillness as heart wrenching as its silence.  
  
"Kitt?"  
  
It was only a whisper. An emotion forced past a throat scarred by his own pleas for mercy.  
  
"Kitt?"  
  
There was no answer.  
  
He reached out a hand, his fingers brushing against mangled metal, leaving trails in the black dust.  
  
And something inside him began to scream.  
  
-------------------- 


	11. Untitled Scene

Untitled Scene  
Possible SG/KR crossover  
By Gumnut  
May 2004  
  
Michael ducked under the man's punch, feeling the breeze of abruptly displaced air tousle his hair. In a split second he recognised his opponent's shift in stance and flung himself to the floor as the punch was quickly followed by a kick that ultimately he was unable to avoid. It rammed into his ribs and he felt the bones creak under strain.  
  
Damn this guy was good.  
  
He rolled to the left, knowing he only had a second before that kick would be followed by a close relative. Flipping his upper body around he aimed to catch that foot when it made the attempt. Sure enough his hands met boot and he grabbed, his opponent suddenly finding himself flat on his back. Michael used the opportunity to spin on to his knees and dance to his feet, breath straining against the pain in his side.  
  
Unfortunately he had no time to do anything else because the man somehow made it to his feet simultaneously and launched yet another attack.  
  
God, this was getting tiresome.  
  
Michael spun and attempted to take out some teeth with his foot, but again found himself lacking, as this time it was his foot that was grabbed and twisted, flipping his body in midair, and slamming him into the hard concrete floor. His lungs collapsed with a whoosh, and something snapped, a bright arc of pain sparking across his eyesight.  
  
He was momentarily stunned, and it was all that was needed for a boot to be shoved between his shoulder blades.  
  
"Give it up, you can not win." The man's voice was throaty, and Michael wondered if he had managed to swallow his own ego and get it stuck in his larynx in the process.  
  
Michael gritted his teeth at the pressure on his now broken ribs and spat words onto the cold floor. "I never give up, you bastard." Yelling out in pain, he wrenched himself around, upsetting the other man's balance, and with a flick of his wrist, flinging him once again to the floor.  
  
This time, breath or no breath, Michael forced himself off the floor and made a run for it. "Ki-"  
  
His yell for his partner was interrupted by said partner taking out one side of the building with his prow, brick, mortar, and foundation crumbling into a choking cloud of dust. A black door was flung open and Michael leapt over the rubble to reach the security of the car.  
  
He almost made it.  
  
"Michael!"  
  
An iron fist clamped on to his ankle, aborting his landing, and he stumbled, his head coming down hard against the jam of the car door, a wrist banging painfully against something else equally as unforgiving.  
  
Abruptly Michael found himself shoved up hard against the Trans Am, an immovable grip wrapped around his neck, spots dancing before his eyes, his breath barely making it past his throat.  
  
"Not as easy as you think." The man sneered at him.  
  
Who the hell does he think he is?  
  
His defiance must have shown in his eyes, because the restriction around his throat suddenly cut off all his air.  
  
His vision swam. Kitt?  
  
"You pathetic humans are always so predictable. And so easy to subjugate." The voice held distain and contempt. "Sometimes I don't know why we bother."  
  
Michael struggled, bringing his knee up in a last desperate attempt at freedom, suddenly becoming aware that all may not be what it seemed.  
  
The other man swore something unintelligible, grabbing one of Michael's arms and simply wrenching it to dislocation.  
  
Michael could do little to hold back the scream. But as his sight faded, pain dragging him towards oblivion, one last thing caught his attention and etched an image into his brain.  
  
The man swore unintelligibly in anger.  
  
And his eyes glowed.  
-------------------  
TBC? 


	12. Touch

Touch  
By Numnut  
6 Jul 2005

Dark.

Silent.

No moon.

Barely a sound, with the exception of the soft lap of water against shore.

Little movement, except…

The slow sweep of a ruby light, out of black on black, stuttering.

He had come here because he knew this was where Michael would have liked to be.

He knew.

Because he knew his partner.

A circuit froze, the ruby light flickering in flinch.

He no longer scanned.

He had given up trying an hour ago.

He knew what he would find.

But he did sense. The virtual fingers of his sensors drifting across cold skin, caressing for a warmth that would never return.

Simple touch.

Michael.

He hadn't given up. He hadn't stopped trying. But in the end this time it had been too much for even him.

And his life had slipped away.

Kitt had done the screaming.

Done the desperate calls for help.

But it was too late even before it was too late.

Peaceful.

Kitt touched his face. The jawline that so often supported that childish and charmed smile. The hair, that despite his partner's incessant teasing, he had refused to cut, preferring it the way it was.

Michael.

Silicon tears.

The sand beneath his tyres was chilled, the night deep into the morning. Devon had been calling frantically for a long time. Kitt had reported the incident, but had not responded since. The Englishman was frantic.

But Kitt didn't care.

This was time for himself.

For the time had come.

A simple touch.

Kitt exhaled through the cabin's vents and tousled Michael's hair. A brief illusion of movement.

Simple touch.

A slow dance across eyelashes.

Michael. We're here. We're at the beach.

Why was he waiting for the smile?

Simple touch.

Said so much when speech was no longer possible.

In those spaces beyond love.

Michael.

Kitt reached out to touch him.

And in the peaceful darkness of a Californian beach.

The ruby light flickered and died.

xoxoxoxoxoxox  
FIN.


	13. Silver

Silver  
For ColorIfic Shades of Grey challenge - silver (with just a dash of pewter)  
By Gumnut (in a cabin at Beachport)  
24 Mar 2006

"It's silver."

"That's great!" Michael's grin was somewhere between optimistic and evil.

"No, it's not. It's silver. I don't do silver."

"Why not?"

"Because it's silver. It's second. I don't do second."

"Kitt-"

"And I am blaming you."

"Me! What did I do!"

"Made a first, a second."

"Listen, it's not my fault you couldn't keep up."

"Wha-? Michael, I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand. I can never not keep up!"

"Silver."

"As I said, your fault."

"It can't be my fault, I wasn't driving."

"Your influence."

"What? You talking voodoo?"

"Michael, after all these years of forcing myself to race to less than my best ability…you've ruined my reputation and reflexes."

"If that is your complaint, speak to Devon. I'm all for winning." Michael leant back against his partner's windshield, his long legs stretched out over Kitt's hood.

"Oh, really? What about 'keeping a low profile'?"

"When undercover. What do you expect me to do?"

"You said you would defend my honour."

Michael blinked. "And haven't I done so?"

"Not recently, Michael. My honour is now a faded shade of pewter."

"Silver."

A moment of silence. "I see defending anything including my dignity has slipped your mind permanently."

Michael sighed. "Aww, c'mon, Kitt. You know I'm just kidding you. Buck up. Say why don't we go find ourselves some highway, head south and catch some waves. I'll even let you chase the seagulls."

"Michael I will do no such thing. If I recall correctly it was you who disturbed the poor creatures last time and it was I who advised against it."

"Hey, I just thought you'd like a little revenge considering what they did to your paintwork the last time you encountered them."

"Once again, I believe that was your fault also, considering you disturbed them in the first place."

Another sigh. "Just what is it with you today? I come out here specifically to spend some time with you and all I'm getting is complaints." Michael let his head drop back onto the paintwork.

"Silver."

"Do you want to run the race again?"

Kitt didn't answer.

"Okay, okay, I get the message." Michael hit the remote and, leaning over, rebooted the Playstation. "You take the red car this time, I hear red goes faster.

His only answer was a muttered grumble.

xoxoxoxoxoxox  
FIN.


	14. Untitled scene 2

It started as it always started. A single drop landing in the dust on his shell, a little umbrella impact crater blooming around it. A single wet spot in a desert of grime.

For once the rain was not unwelcome. He found himself sitting in the Foundation drive coated in finely ground up Arizona from bumper to bumper and a little water would improve the situation immensely despite the fact that Michael would no doubt take it upon himself to scrub his partner clean in the near future. His driver absolutely hated seeing Kitt at anything but his best, but there was also the element of care the man always bestowed on the AI, and a car wash was a required intimacy.

The drop was single for only a moment, quickly followed by more water eager to reach the earth. The familiar drum against his shell soon started up, a pleasant background tempo to the conversation he was monitoring inside.

Michael was explaining to Devon exactly why their quarry had escaped. And his tones were less than calm.

Kitt sighed. This had been another stress filled case. Michael had the usual array of bruises, this time with an accompanying cut to one thigh. One knife. One opponent. And Michael hadn't been quick enough.

Too many sleepless nights. Too many stakeouts. And too little of what was important.

All work and no play makes Michael Knight vulnerable to getting himself killed.

Kitt idly wondered if they could make a children's rhyme out of that line.

"Devon, damnit, we did our best!"

"Well, Michael, your best obviously wasn't good enough."

There was an ominous silence, and Kitt didn't need to scan to know his partner's reaction to that statement.

He didn't need to be in surveillance mode to hear the door slam either. Probability calculations gave fifty-fifty as to whether it would remain on its hinges.

Michael appeared on the drive, storming out into the rain, obviously not caring for the water, his expression one of pure fury.

Kitt didn't say anything. He knew why Devon had been so caustic and he knew why Michael was so angry. So much was hanging on this case. So much risked. So many tempers fraying.

A finger tracked through muddied dust.

"Kitt?"

"Yes, Michael?"

"We did our best."

"Yes, we did, Michael."

"It wasn't good enough."

"Then we simply try again."

Michael didn't immediately answer, his fingers tracing patterns on the Trans Am's paintwork. Rain ran down his forehead and dripped off his nose.

"Michael, you need rest."

"I need to…" He stopped talking, his fingers withdrawing. He paused just a moment, before hunching slightly in his jacket and limping off into the rain.

The night swallowed him, but Kitt's scanners took no heed of the darkness. They followed as he wandered into the gardens, somewhat aimlessly.

Kitt sighed again.

Mud ran off him in rivulets.

Sometimes he wondered if it was worth all the pain.

All the heartache.

They made a difference, that much was certain. But at what cost? How much were they willing to pay?

How much were they willing to lose?

And what had already been lost?

The rain drummed on his shell, but Kitt was no longer listening.

----------


	15. Purpose

Purpose  
By Gumnut  
11 Jul 2004

He had been reading again.

It was silly really, especially since he could simply download the text into memory and have it available for access at anytime. But something drove him to peruse each word, to draw from the author's intention. The simplicity of word and line, description, words woven into narrative, had a lure for him that was highly distracting.

They were just words, yes, but at the same time they were so much more. More than a collection of letters, of binary code printed in magnetic solution. They meant something, and the only way to interpret that something was to read the words.

So he did.

He had his favourites, as did anyone. Often he would have to admit to a preference for science fiction since it was from these tales that he was born. His concept created by those persons daring to dream. Of course, some he found to be folly - odd concepts that defied logic and bent his circuits in an attempt to dream the impossible. But mostly he found interest and satisfaction in the sci-fi tale.

How did he read to himself? How did he bounce concepts off his memory chips without immediately absorbing them at his usual highly efficient rate? He had rigged it. He had placed a temporary block between his input module and his memory, forcing each morsel of information to rotate through his RAM just those few microseconds longer before being absorbed. It gave him time to mull over meanings, to examine intentions.

To read.

He had stumbled across this publication after his last download from Bonnie. She was aware of his interests and often included programs and information just for his amusement. For those times he was left standing in a parking lot with nothing more important to do. There were downsides to being housed in a car, one of them being boredom.

Bonnie went out of her way to assist him with that.

Michael was ever aware of it.

Michael.

The topic of his current literary adventure had a theme that cut close to home. It spoke of an artificial intelligence that had lost its purpose. He was unsure as to whether Bonnie was aware of what she had included in this download. He found the topic depressing.

What was intelligence without purpose? Artificial or otherwise?

And what was his purpose?

He knew the answer to that one. It was currently sitting in his driver's seat snoring its head off.

Kitt smiled to himself. Michael was so unguarded when asleep. He looked so young, so vulnerable. It was times like these that Kitt was reminded of the reason for his existence.

His purpose in life was to protect this life. This gently snoring, and, oh god, yes, drooling on his upholstery again, human.

His continual monitoring of Michael's lifesigns looped through its standard scan without any prompting from the AI. Vital stats were bounced through his CPU. Blood pressure, heart rate, echoes of a biorhythm that was so foreign to the AI and yet so cherishingly familiar.

Yes, Michael was his purpose.

But what if something happened to Michael?

The thought froze several high access circuits simultaneously. It wasn't the first time he had had these thoughts, and probably wouldn't be the last, but they still chilled him.

Regardless if Kitt managed to prevent anything from happening to his driver, even if he swaddled him in cotton wool, tied him to the driver's seat, and never let him anywhere near danger ever again, time would still steal him away. Yet another disadvantage of being an AI was the capability to calculate that time left for his purpose.

They were dark thoughts, and Kitt hated them.

The very thought of losing Michael violated his core programming, and he doubted he would survive much longer than his driver should the unthinkable happen.

And it would.

One day.

It was inevitable.

But at the same time, Kitt knew that Michael must be aware of his own mortality. How did a human face the finite time they have?

How was he to face it?

And what would happen?

Even if Kitt's program collapsed should Michael die, it was beyond his power to prevent himself from being reprogrammed, reactivated. And if such a thing was done, would he still be him? Would he remember Michael? Would he remember himself?

The very thought of losing Michael, and then to lose the memory of him as well...

Kitt clamped down on that train of thought and filed it away for later access. He was getting morose.

He checked the time, assessing the slowly lightening sky. 5.02 am. Soon. Michael had requested an early waking time this morning. The criminals they were after seemed to be early risers and they had to be in position before they woke.

He darted a glance back at the text that had prompted his musings.

Purpose.

He had a purpose.

Michael chose that moment to roll over and kick the dashboard in the process. If Kitt had had teeth they would have clattered together.

What a purpose.

He discarded the text, burying it in his library where hopefully he wouldn't come across it for a while.

He had a purpose.

A six foot four, blue eyed, dark and curly haired purpose.

A purpose that taxed his patience, twisted his logic circuits, and amazed him on a daily basis by surviving his foolhardy existence.

He had a purpose.

Dark thoughts crowded at the back of his mind, and he stared at those sleeping features, knowing intimately that one day death would take them from him.

His purpose was doomed to failure.

But that would not stop him from trying.

-o-o-o-


	16. The Dare

The Dare  
By Gumnut  
23 Jun 2004

"I dare ya."

"Michael, this is ridiculous."

"You are just trying to get out of a challenge."

"Michael, really."

"Kitt, c'mon, I dare ya."

"For what purpose?"

There was a pause. "A bet."

"Interesting. And what exactly would you wager?"

Another pause. "Music. You win and I'll listen to your choice for the next week, I win, you listen to mine."

"Hmm, no music videos allowed."

"Aww, Kitt, c'mon I love those videos."

"I am well aware of that, however, MY music has no such accoutrements, and we must be fair."

"Hmph. Well, okay. But first you gotta do it."

"And what are you going to do in the meantime?"

"Watch."

"Some have it easy."

"What do you mean? You were the one who suggested it in the first place."

"I did not suggest it. I merely said it was possible."

"Well, now you have to put your money where your mouth is."

"I have neither."

"Stop stalling, Kitt. Now do you want me in or out?"

"In I should think. The smell will not be pleasant."

"How considerate of you." Pause. "Well, c'mon, what you waiting for?"

"Bonnie will not approve."

"Bonnie never approves. Let's go."

Sigh.

-o-o-o-

Bonnie had just finished up on some calculations involving extending the range of Kitt's laser, and had come down to the garage in search of the AI, when the sound of screeching tyres echoed across the property. Starting towards the awful sound, she saw a cloud of smoke billowing up above the trees in the direction of the test track.

What the? Oh, god.

Kitt?

She broke into a run and dashed across the lawn and down the drive, terrified something had gone horribly wrong.

The test track was drenched in acrid smoke. The smell of burning rubber brought tears to her eyes.

Intermittently a black prow or the rear end of the Trans Am appeared out of the cloud, only to retreat, turning, spinning. What the hell had gone wrong? Had Kitt experienced a malfunction?

"Kitt!"

Numerous other spectators appeared at the edge of the track, all looking almost as shocked as she felt.

There was nothing she could do while the car was in motion, but if he didn't stop soon, she would run back to the semi and interrupt his control of the car.

God damnit, what had gone wrong?

And then suddenly he did stop, the Trans Am idly rolling to the side of the track.

The smoke began to drift away.

She stared at Kitt, and came face to face with Michael grinning madly through the windshield. What the hell?

He fingered a switch. "Hi, Bonnie." He called out merrily.

"Michael, what the hell are you doing?"

He didn't answer, an impish grin on his face. "Boosting Kitt's confidence."

"Is that what it's called? I thought it was a dare? One that I won, incidentally. Now pay up." Kitt sounded triumphant.

Bonnie had had enough. She stormed over to the car and glared through the driver's side window. "Michael, either you tell me what you are doing, or I'll ground both of you for the next month."

His smile faltered, and the window suddenly wound down. "You can't do that."

"You want to dare me?"

He gulped.

"Kitt and I were having a little discussion. We have been testing the agility of his navigation program."

"Testing?" She put extra wattage into her glare.

It worked.

"Okay, okay, we were mucking around on the test track. We've been here all day waiting for Kitt's new tyres to arrive. We were bored, what can I say?"

"Keep talking."

Kitt chose that moment to interject. "It is my fault, Bonnie."

She spared a glare for the flickering voice modulator. "That I seriously doubt." The guilt on Michael's face was almost comical, and she found her anger dissipating, a small smile forcing itself to her lips.

Unfortunately, he noticed and his reckless grin started to crawl back on to his face.

She held up a hand. "What exactly were you attempting to do?"

The smile faltered.

Kitt spoke up. "As Michael said, we were testing the agility of my navigation program." A pause. "And the resilience of my tyres. It did seem pertinent since these need replacing in any case." There was little guilt in the AI's matter of fact tone.

"And exactly how did you plan to do that?"

"It was Michael's idea."

"It was not!"

"It was your story."

"You were the one who said you could do better."

"You dared me."

"You took the dare."

"You bribed me."

"Bribed, how?"

"The tantalizing concept of not having to listen to that racket you call music for an entire week was enough to send me over the edge."

"You jumped!"

"It was still your idea."

Bonnie stuck two fingers in her mouth and let rip with a whistle that echoed across the bitumen. Both man and AI suddenly shut up, and she had the attention of not only them, but every person within a mile's radius.

She glared at them. "What were you attempting to do?"

Kitt's voice was calm and quiet. "Not attempting, accomplishing. Have a look, Bonnie, I think it is quite elegant myself."

Michael pointed her towards the centre of the test track where the thick smoke had finally cleared. There were black marks all over the pavement. She wandered over.

Oh, for the love of...sigh. She was surrounded by children.

Scrawled in elegant black rubber cursive in letters several feet high...

_KITT & MK  
were here  
1986_

-o-o-o-


	17. A little random violence

A little random violence  
By Gumnut  
10 Apr 2006

Michael swung the chains around and around and around, flinging them at the three men attempting to take him on. Two went down with a yelp, the other just snarled at him.

Okay, you want it that way, we'll play it that way.

The man charged, weight overcoming speed, but only allowing Michael to trip him and flip him on his ass. He landed with a crash in a pile of old broken pallets.

"Michael!"

He spun, but not in time, Lugnut and Twobyfour, now apparently on their feet, grabbing his arms and attempting to pin him. Michael struggled, a boot coming down hard on one man's instep and an elbow landed in the other's teeth, blood decorating his new shirt.

"Damn, now my girlfriend is gonna be pissed." Feet grabbing purchase, he spun, wrenching himself from their grip, knee connecting on the return with a freshly minted set of reproductive organs and the accompanying agonised groan. Lugnut dropped like a stone.

Twobyfour took a moment to nurse his teeth and then came back for more. "A little slow on the uptake are we?" Michael had enough distance by this time. A beat and a long leg armed with one of his favourite boots met with the man's jaw; a satisfying crunch and gurgle and Twobyfour dropped to the floor.

"Okay, are we finished here yet?" Wood clattered behind him. "Hmm, apparently not." He turned just in time to catch Flyboy on his second charge and send him airborne once again. This time a brick wall stopped his flight, rather abruptly, rather sickeningly and apparently permanently.

And finally the warehouse was quiet. Michael took a moment for a breather, his hands falling to his knees, his head dropping. "Any more opposition, buddy?"

The black sheen of the Trans Am reflected the lighting not far away, a dark, gaping, ragged hole of night some distance behind it where they had made their abrupt entrance. Kitt's voice echoed worry. "I'm sorry, Michael, I'm still getting a great deal of interference. There may be, but I can't be sure."

Michael sighed, straightening. He walked over to the car, his fingers brushing the paintwork of the hood. "Not to worry, pal. We'll just do this the old fashioned way."

"I don't like it, Michael."

"Neither do I, but that's the way it is and the way we'll play it."

"You should rest a moment." Michael could almost feel the scanners combing his medical condition.

"No, buddy, no time. We're in, we move now." He walked past his partner and headed for the stairs, various bruises complaining along the way.

"Good luck, Michael."

He would need it.

-o-o-o-


	18. Reaction

Reaction  
A random fic start for Shady  
By Gumnut

The glass fell from her hand to shatter into a million pieces at her feet.

She didn't notice.

"Michael?"

His smile was hesitant and his features worn, but there was no denying that the man standing before her was Michael Knight. His voice was just a hesitant and quiet as his smile. "Apparently, yes."

She couldn't help but stare. Two long years. Two years of worry, of heartbreak, of missed opportunities. Since the day Kitt had returned disorientated, defaulting to home base, not knowing where Michael was, what had happened and barely who he was…

Her voice broke. "Michael?"

His expression flickered to one of concern and worry…and guilt. "Bonnie, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

And she was in his arms. No decision, no thought, simply reaction.

And tears.

-o-o-o-


	19. Always

Always  
By Gumnut  
22 Sep 2004

The distant song of a limp, unmotivated surf.  
A single cry  
Lone bird riding the breeze  
Unuttered words wafting from lips too turned to the negative  
To be heard.

Memories.  
Options not taken, questions unanswered.  
Alone. Wind tousling hair.  
A throat too cluttered  
To cry.

Hum.  
Sand in tyre tread, the crack of breaking seashell  
A whisper of ruby  
Darkness on a sunny day

"Michael?"

Heartbeat, staggering.  
The reassurance of soft black skin under fingertips  
An ache as the first tear falls

"Kitt."

"Yes?"

"Be there-?" Falters on broken sounds

"Always."

Always.  
Black car, deserted beach  
And a fractured soul needing and finding  
Its other half  
To be whole.

And sand dances on the paintwork.

-o-o-o-


	20. Bubbles

Bubbles  
By Gumnut  
6 Jul 2006

"Michael, what are you doing?"

"I'm blowing bubbles."

"Obviously. But I'm more concerned with why."

"Because it is fun."

"How is it fun exactly?"

"C'mon, Kitt, it's bubbles. I used to do this as a kid."

"Yesterday?"

""Ha ha, very funny."

"I thought so."

"If you can find fun in poking fun at me, how can't you find fun in bubbles?"

"They're staining my paintwork."

"It takes a missile to stain your paintwork, Kitt."

"And detergent."

"Lighten up, buddy."

Electronic sigh. "So you find this activity amusing because you performed it as a child?"

"Partly, but that isn't all of it."

"So what else."

"They're bubbles, Kitt."

"The obvious is usually rather obvious, Michael."

Human sigh. "They're pretty, Kitt. They float. They dance in the wind. They can travel for miles."

"You like them because they fly?"

"Partly, I guess. But the colours…have you ever looked at a bubble, Kitt?"

"I'm looking at one right now. It is leaving a lovely ring of soap scum on my windshield."

"Think positive, Kitt."

"That you will need to give me a bath later?"

"You really were programmed by Bonnie, weren't you?"

"You better believe it."

-o-o-o-  
FIN.


	21. A moment

A moment  
By Gumnut

"I told you this would happen."

"What can I say? I like to think positive."

"There is positive and there is blind, Michael, and you are often not the first of those two options."

"Thanks a lot!"

"You're welcome."

"My, you certainly rolled out of the wrong garage door this morning."

"The fact I had to roll out of either door was the problem."

"Hey, it wasn't your vacation that was interrupted if I remember correctly. It was mine."

"So my time off isn't classified as vacation?"

"I can remember a time when you didn't even know what the word meant."

"I plead the innocence of youth."

"And I plead grumpy AI. So it's raining, big deal."

"It is not your paintwork withstanding the torrent, Michael."

"It is not as if it could do you any damage. Hell, it could hail bricks and you wouldn't blink."

"Bricks don't leave polluted watermarks on black MBS. And I don't blink in any case."

Michael sighed. "You're grumpy because you're getting dirty? Since when have you worried about that?"

"I have always been worried about that. Remember the swamp?"

"How could I forget? I have scars."

"Yes, well, I had dog prints, mud, slime, and who knows what else jammed in who knows where. I much rather prefer to be clean."

"It's only rain, buddy."

"Full of pollution. Acid rain. And we know what acid does to me."

Michael sighed again. "Kitt, you're not going to melt in the rain. It's not like you're the wicked anything of the west."

"But you only washed me yesterday, I was hoping to keep clean a little longer."

Another sigh. "If it worries you that much, I'll give you another bath when we get home. Okay?"

There was a brief silence followed by a mutter Michael barely heard.

"Okay, okay, your favourite soap it is." A pause and, when Kitt didn't say anything further, Michael continued, "So do we have a deal?"

"I suppose so."

"Aww, c'mon, Kitt, cheer up, I'll even vacuum."

"Will you remove your decrepit and slightly mouldy running shoes from my back seat?"

"I vow to do just that." And throw them in the trash, they were a bit on the nose.

"The potato chip crumbs from my passenger seat?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't forget the lipstick on the windshield."

"I won't."

"Okay." And Kitt's voice sounded warmer. "I'm looking forward to it."

Michael smiled. "And so am I." And he was.

"So what music would you like to listen to today?"

"I'm feeling like some Bruce Springsteen, I think."

"Oh no, not again. Aren't you sick of him yet?"

"How can anyone get sick of the Boss?"

"Quite easily. 500 kilometres of 'Born in the USA' is almost enough to make me want to emigrate to Australia."

"You wouldn't like it there. They drive backwards."

"They do?"

"Yeah, sure, you should ask Bonnie to update your database again."

"But isn't backwards a little awkward if you're human?"

Michael just laughed.

-o-o-o-


	22. Building stone

Building stone  
By Gumnut  
30 Jul 2007

"It's concrete, Kitt!"

"I am well aware of that fact, Michael. I do not see the problem."

"I do! I don't care how indestructible you think you are, that is no simple jail cell wall, buddy. It is fully reinforced, several feet thick, vault concrete."

"Michael, I know you are new to this position, so your ignorance can be excused, but please I am fully aware of my capabilities and you can be assured that I would never endanger your life." A pause that almost illustrated uncertainty. "You know that."

Michael let his hands drop from the steering wheel. Truth was, they had little choice. The girl was on the other side of that concrete wall. There was no other way in. But Michael still had trouble believing in this wonder car. Sure it had a zillion fantastic gadgets and had pile-driven itself through several walls of various make already, but still…

"If you are thinking of jumping out of the car, Michael, please refrain. You've already proven your destructibility to me and I have no wish to tempt it again."

Michael glared at the dash. So much for that idea.

"You may ride in the back seat if you so prefer, however, the restraint system is more effective in the pilot's seat."

He shifted against the plush upholstery, but didn't say anything further.

"All I ask is for you to trust me."

"I do trust you." However grudgingly.

"You do?"

"Of course I do. You think I'd let just any car do half the things I let you do?"

"I don't think just any car could do the things I do."

"Smart ass."

"I continue to take that as a compliment. However, I believe the job at hand is of some urgency and completion only requires this last manoeuvre."

Michael stared at the wall.

"Okay."

He swallowed.

"Thank you, Michael."

The steering wheel needed no guidance of his as the car's engine roared, rear wheels leaving black on the pavement and smoke in the air behind them. Michael tried not to flinch as Kitt's bow hit the wall, tried not to yelp as chunks of stone clattered and pummelled the windshield, but he failed as always. Part of him was thrilled at the danger, but somewhere, some primitive part of him reacted as the laws of physics demanded he react. He guessed he would get used to it eventually and he wasn't lying, he did trust Kitt, but a few weeks weren't enough. He needed to learn, to realise exactly what the AI was capable of.

What they were capable of.

-o-o-o-


	23. Electric nightmares

Electric nightmares  
By Gumnut  
16 Jan 2006

"Kitt, give it to me!"

"Michael, I'm trying!"

"Crap! Missile!"

The Trans Am slid sideways as its driver desperately attempted avoid the incoming device. "Damnit, Kitt! Where the hell is that power I asked for?!"

"Michael, the circuit's damaged, I-"

"Shit!"

The missile hit the car side on; flinging it off the road and down the cliff that had so hampered their movement. The Trans Am flipped as Kitt desperately attempted to compensate with booster fire. The PLRS flickered, it's power resources tangled in the mangled circuit board.

But the MBS held.

Kitt played his resources, pulling up data, scans, calculating the possibility of fleeing the scene.

He landed on all four wheels. There were some miracles.

Michael, however, was not responding. "Michael!"

"Michael!"

The engine survived and Kitt revved it trying to move.

Perhaps some miracles were simply taunts.

"Michael!"

No response.

Was a truck designed to roar?

Far above them Goliath came to a stop, his front bumper leering over the drop.

Another missile targeted.

"Michael!"

Vitals came back bad.

The missile fired.

"MICHAEL!!"

-o-o-o-

Kitt jumped out of recharge in a fright. What had that been?

Scanners flicked on. His own garage. Everything was quiet…

"Good morning."

And Garthe Knight walked in the door.

-o-o-o-


	24. Favourite retreat

Favourite retreat  
By Gumnut

The wind was blustery and loud, catching his hair and tossing tangles into his eyes. The mutter of angry ocean eating shoreline could just be heard over it as the two elements battled for aural dominance.

He needed to think and standing on the beach in winter was just the place to do it. No matter the season, he could always find some solace here. Wind, water, sun and sand - the four integral ingredients of clear thinking.

Usually he would be here with Kitt, but not this time. This time it was Kitt he needed to think about and he didn't need the AI to know.

Kitt had once asked him how much he was worth. How much the AI himself was worth. Michael hadn't given him an answer.

Not because he didn't have one, but because the answer had surprised him.

Michael Long had always been independent. He'd learnt the hard way that he could really only rely on himself. Fight his own fight, find his own way, make his own difference. A fact ever more rammed home in the birth of Michael Knight.

Until now.

Hell, he'd had partners he would have given his life for, and those that would have done the same for him, but there was something different about this relationship…and it had nothing to do with electronics.

He found himself depending on Kitt, relying on the AI in a way he had never really allowed himself to do with anyone else. The AI needed him and in return, he found he needed the AI for more than just tactical backup. He needed his nagging, his sense of humour, and his glares emanating from the dash.

Now, many people might consider him off his head in needing his car for emotional support. But then Kitt wasn't a car.

But still…

In this point in his life, it had become time to face facts. From the day he had partnered Kitt, far more had changed than his name and his face. His outlook on life and his need to cherish what moments he had.

And those he shared them with.

The surf roared and muttered, but he found it was no longer enough.

It was no longer his preferred place to be.

-o-o-o-


	25. Fragile glass

Fragile glass  
By Gumnut

He reached out a hand and touched her cheek, willing the tears both to fall and to disappear as if they had never existed.

He didn't want to hurt her, it was the last thing he wanted to do, but it had been unavoidable.

A single tear wet the tip of his finger as she shrugged off his offer of comfort.

Her voice was hoarse. "How could you?"

"I didn't have a choice, Bonnie, I'm sorry."

"There are always choices!"

"Not this time!"

His voice rose despite his determined calm and it surprised the both of them. "Please, Bonnie, try to understand-"

"No." Tears shattered like glass, shards turning to cutting anger. "Kitt told you. I told you. But you ignored us both. And now…" She turned away from him.

"Bonnie, it had to be done."

"I don't care."

"Somehow I don't believe that."

She turned back to face him and the fire in her eyes forced him to take a step back. In return she took a step forward. "Okay, yes, I do care. But that doesn't matter anymore now, does it? You had your way. He did as you asked. He always does. One last mission. One last case. All these years he's given you everything he had and yet you still asked for more. Well, you can't ask any more, Devon, because Michael doesn't have anything left to give. I hope you're finally happy."

And she ran from the room, leaving him to stare at her absence.

-o-o-o-


	26. Give me a reason

Give me a reason to let you live  
By Gumnut

LANGUAGE WARNING.

"Give me a reason to let you live."

Michael's hands were shaking. He held the man by a fist clenched in his jacket, a pair of defiant yet uncertain eyes stared up at him.

And the gun held to his face.

Michael twisted the pistol, somewhat mesmerised by the dent it made in the man's cheek. A red mark forming under the pressure, the fine trembling of anger involuntarily pushing the barrel deeper.

"Go on, give me a reason!" His voice was raw from shouting, from screaming, from watching this man do what he had done.

His victim stammered. "You are a cop."

"I. Am. Not. A. Cop."

The gun dug even deeper and the man flinched.

"You don't kill. It is not what you do." The man's voice was getting higher pitched by the moment.

"How do you know that?"

"You're Michael Knight. You-you work for the Foundation for Law and Government. Y-you're legendary."

"Am I?" Michael brought the man up to his face, close enough for his breath to fog the bastard's glasses. He blinked as his vision doubled. "You don't deserve to be protected by law." He cocked the gun.

"N-no, p-please, p-please…"

"Michael."

He had barely heard Kitt's approach; his heart was pounding too loudly in his chest to let much past it.

"Go away, Kitt."

"Michael, you don't want to do this."

"I. Said. Go. Away!"

"He is not worth the sacrifice."

"He….! Go away, you don't want to see this."

"Michael."

"Fuck off, Kitt!"

"No."

The gun came 'round and for a split second all Michael saw was red. The trigger was squeezed and sparks flew off Kitt's hide.

The man in his hands made a break for it.

"Oh, no you don't, you bastard, you are going to pay!" Michael brought the gun around in a swing and clubbed the man across the face, breaking his nose. His fist caught his jacket again and the pistol found its red mark, now smeared with blood. "You don't get to escape, sick boy, you gotta pay."

-o-o-o-

(TBC?)


	27. What are you like in the morning?

What are you like in the morning?  
By Gumnut

His eyes had crusted shut but the sun still managed to shine through them.

"Michael."

Oh god. Did he have to move?

"Michael."

His mouth tasted like sand. He spat half-heartedly. Hmm, might be because there was sand in it. Ugh.

"Michael."

He was comfortable, what more could he want?

"Michael."

Something warm and wet plopped on his cheek. Ergh, what was that? He brought a hand up to brush it off, but only managed to get whatever it was all over his fingers. Lumpy liquid.

"Michael!'

Huh? He forced his eyes open and came face to face with a crab. "Ack!" Immediately awake enough to scurry backwards, he found himself with his ass planted on sand…on a beach.

The crab seemed to sniff, offended, and scurried off.

"Huh?" That something was now running down his cheek.

"Michael, you have bird excrement on your face."

He turned to eye his partner, the sleek, black Trans Am sitting beside him on the sand. He wiped his fingers against his cheek once again and looked at them. "Oh god…disgusting!" Something to rub it off, something to rub it off…he looked around frantically and fortunately discovered a discarded serviette caught under Kitt's front tyre. "Yuck!" He wiped it off best he could.

It wasn't until then that he managed to look around, his eyes blinking against the early morning light. What was he doing here? He blinked. Oh, the party! He frowned. There wasn't another soul in sight. Musta been one hell of a party.

"Michael, are you quite alright?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, buddy, I'm fine."

There was sand in his shorts.

"Then, good morning, Michael."

"'Morning, Kitt."

-o-o-o-

_Muse: Michael Knight  
Fandom: Knight Rider  
Word count: 275_


	28. They came from the dark

They came from the dark  
By Gumnut

_They came from the dark, the very deep dark  
To the sound of spinning wheels  
They kicked up dust, and laid down rubber  
As the road beneath'em squealed._

_They shot out fast, as their quarry flew past  
Desperate to catch its tail  
The night was shattered by the engine's throb  
And the turbines' high-pitched wail_

_Off they sped, as their opponent fled,  
Like a bloodhound hot on a trail  
And the ruby scream of the scanner's sweep  
Cried out, they would not fail._

_For this was they, as legends say,  
Those that fought for right  
The blackened blur of a speeding car  
And a rider by the name of Knight._

_-o-o-o-_


	29. Taking orders

Taking orders  
By Gumnut  
28 Jun 2006

"No."

Michael blinked. "What?"

"No, Michael."

His hands, wrapped around the steering yoke, flinched as Kitt took control away from him.

"Kitt, what the hell are you doing? Pull over."

"No, Michael. This time you are the priority."

"Priority? Kitt, that woman needs our help."

"That woman needs a mechanic. You on the other hand need medical attention, sleep and extended relaxation."

Michael glared at the dash in irritation. "So you're just going to leave her stuck on the side of the road?"

"Someone else will help her."

"But-"

"Michael! Do I need to predict the scenario for you?" When Michael didn't answer, Kitt continued. "Firstly, you want to stop for two reasons. One, she is female. Two, and more importantly, she needs help. You, being the person you are, can't help but help. You're injured, Michael, someone else can take the call this time."

"Kitt, I'm fine. She could be there for hours-"

"No! You are the priority. You are the one I care about."

Michael stared. "Kitt, I said, I'm fine. It was only a scratch. There is nothing to be worried about, you said it yourself."

"If I let you out, you will help that woman. Then she will take advantage of you and either injure you further or ask for more help and you being you, won't be able to resist. You need the time off, Michael, time for yourself."

"Okay, okay, I surrender." He frowned at the dash. "But since when did you start giving the orders?"

"Since necessity gave birth to invention."

-o-o-o-


	30. She fell

She fell  
By Gumnut  
24 Sep 2007

She fell.

She tripped on his humour and found herself blushing, only to shove him away angrily to hide her embarrassment.

She fell.

For the joke and the smile. Disarming at it's mildest, it wrapped around her, taking all her defences with it.

She fell.

Hurling epithets and defiance. Cursing his name while caressing crumpled metal and comforting that voice. The voice that cried out to her in pain knowing that only she could stop it.

She fell.

Kicking and screaming. How could he be the one? How could he with his so many women, such carefree appetite, entrance her? How dare he try to add her to his list of conquests. How dare he!

She fell.

Into his arms, flame billowing, burning. Her name screamed by a voice in agony. More crumpled metal, more pain.

She fell.

And he was there. No smile. No humour. No intent.

Just there.

She blinked, reaching out for him.

She fell.

And he caught her.

-o-o-o-


	31. Seconds

LANGUAGE WARNING.

Seconds  
By Gumnut  
9 Jun 2005

10.

"Michael, stop the car."

He didn't hesitate. Kitt's tone didn't brook any argument. The Trans Am slid to a smooth stop on the side of the highway.

"Kitt?"

9.

"Get out of the car."

Michael frowned. "Kitt, what's going on?"

"Michael, please don't argue with me. Get out of the car!" His partner's tone was urgent.

What the hell? Michael complied anyway. There was trust.

8.

"Kitt, what's going on?"

Silence for a moment. Did the car shudder slightly?

"They did something, Michael."

Uh oh. "What?" He had pried Kitt from their hands, his own hands wrapped around a gun. He had no patience or care for those who attempted to hurt his partner. The gun hadn't remained silent.

7.

"Something attached to my fuel line. Michael vacate the area immediately." The Trans Am's engine roared into life and the car began to move.

Michael reacted immediately, jumping in his path. "Kitt, no!" Shit. "How long?"

"Not long enough. Michael, leave!" The car slammed into reverse and Kitt backed away at high speed.

"Kitt, no!" Kitt was fast, but he wasn't fast enough for a determined human being. Michael predicted the next move and flung himself onto the car's hood. "Let me, please, buddy. Please."

6.

"No time to argue, Michael!"

"Then don't argue! Damnit, Kitt, I order you to stop!"

"I can not obey, Michael. Your safety is most important. Please!" Kitt tried to dislodge him from his hood. Michael clung on with everything he had.

"For fuck's sake, Kitt, do as I TELL YOU!!" Michael was frantic. The Trans Am froze.

Michael slid off the hood, placing one foot either side of Kitt's left front tyre. His partner couldn't move without injuring him. Michael prayed he had the time to do what he had to. "Open the hood."

Kitt complied.

5.

"How long?" Michael bent over the engine compartment, pulling wires as fast as he could.

Kitt's voice was cold. "4.75 seconds. Estimated blast radius, 100 metres."

Shit, little to no chance.

His fingers caught and bled on sharp metal edges, but he pulled faster.

He could only pray.

4.

The CPU refused to dislodge. Michael swore.

Kitt didn't say a thing. He couldn't.

"Damnit!" Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tears of frustration.

"Damnit, Kitt do as you're told!"

Foot up on the fender. He pulled with everything he had.

And fell on his ass.

3.

He ran for his life.

He ran for Kitt's life.

He ran for everything.

He didn't look back at the deserted Trans Am.

Didn't look back at what he would be missing.

Because the most important part was in his arms.

2.

He ran.

1.

And ran.

0.

-o-o-o-  
FIN.


	32. Mirrors in the rain

Mirrors in the rain  
By Gumnut  
22 Jul 2007

Rain creates mirrors.

Each sensor reached out combing the darkness. Each found glistening water to reflect back. Each glaring at him, throwing suspicions and accusations he could not deny.

Rain falls so unevenly.

Black on black. Midnight of a night that refused to end.

Trans Am.

His engine roared to life, vaporising the water on his hood to steam within moments. His tyres emptied puddles as he crept forward, but he had nowhere to go.

At least this time he knew who he was.

Mirrors reflected.

But they didn't tell him enough.

About the dead man lying in the rain.

-o-o-o-


	33. Radiator blowout

Radiator Blowout  
30 Min scribble  
By Gumnut  
24 Nov 2004

Dust.

In the desert you breathe it.

It stretches for miles, endless vistas of desiccated landscape, bleached by the sun and blown by the wind.

All dust. The beginning and the end of everything.

And in this case the final straw for one faulty intake valve.

"I'm sorry, Michael."

"It's not your fault, buddy. It coulda happened to anyone, anytime."

"It is totally humiliating. Brought to a grinding halt by two silly pieces of plastic."

"Hey, give it a break, Kitt, we'll get out of this, no problem. Get Devon on the horn." Michael straightened up from under the hood of the Trans Am. Kitt was right, this was humiliating. The most sophisticated car on the planet stuck on the side of the road due to engine overheating. Steam billowed out of the super sophisticated radiator that had managed to blow a hose despite said sophistication. All because of one little valve. He hoped Bonnie could get her money back on this one.

"I have Devon, Michael."

He opened the driver's side door and folded himself into the seat. "Hey, Devon, you busy?"

The Englishman raised a wary eyebrow on the dash display. "What's wrong?"

"Kitt blew a gasket. Nothing major, but I'm afraid we're in need of a lift."

"A gasket?! Really, Michael. He's exaggerating, Mr. Miles, it is a simple valve problem."

Devon tried to hide a smile, but failed miserably. "Bonnie will be there. What are your coordinates?" Kitt transmitted the required numbers. "My god, you're in the middle of nowhere. What are you doing out there?" When he didn't receive an answer, his eyebrow rose even further. "Very well, it will take Bonnie several hours to reach you."

"Well, we won't be going anywhere. Thanks, Devon."

"Good luck." And the display disappeared.

Michael stared out at the parched horizon. Nothing for miles except road and dust. "So, Kitt, up for a game?"

"What? Is there something I haven't beaten you at yet?"

"Ha, ha, aren't we just the smart little automobile."

"So I've been told."

"Hmph."

"Seriously, Michael, you are aware that my air conditioning system is disabled."

Michael sighed. "Yeah, Kitt, fully aware and I'm missing it already."

"It is going to get quite warm in here. The forecast for this area is quite extreme, it will not be pleasant."

"Well, that is life, buddy, I guess I'll be shedding some clothing in the near future."

"Good idea, however, might I advise you to keep your underwear on other wise I don't think Bonnie would appreciate the view."

Michael grinned at the thought of the smart, pretty mechanic finding him in his underwear, on or off for that matter. "Uh, I don't know, Kitt. It could be a matter of opinion."

"Trust me, Michael, Bonnie's fear of flying isn't the only thing she programmed me with."

He shot a look at the flashing voice box, suddenly realising exactly how true that statement was, and while his chagrin at Kitt's statement curled his lips in exasperation with the AI, another thought entered his head.

"Hey, Kitt, how much exactly do you know about our lovely technician."

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Hah! A challenge."

"Michael-"

"I have some time to spare, buddy."

"We could be going over the mission briefing."

"So, does she like me?"

Was that an electronic sigh? Michael rubbed his hands together, yes, this could get very interesting.

-o-o-o-  
TBC?


	34. Not good enough

Not good enough  
By Gumnut  
19 Dec 2005

It started as it always started. A single drop landing in the dust on his shell, a little umbrella impact crater blooming around it. A single wet spot in a desert of grime.

For once the rain was not unwelcome. He found himself sitting in the Foundation drive coated in finely ground up Arizona from bumper to bumper and a little water would improve the situation immensely despite the fact that Michael would no doubt take it upon himself to scrub his partner clean in the near future. His driver absolutely hated seeing Kitt at anything but his best, but there was also the element of care the man always bestowed on the AI, and a car wash was a required intimacy.

The drop was single for only a moment, quickly followed by more water eager to reach the earth. The familiar drum against his shell soon started up, a pleasant background tempo to the conversation he was monitoring inside.

Michael was explaining to Devon exactly why their quarry had escaped. And his tones were less than calm.

Kitt sighed. This had been another stress filled case. Michael had the usual array of bruises, this time with an accompanying cut to one thigh. One knife. One opponent. And Michael hadn't been quick enough.

Too many sleepless nights. Too many stakeouts. And too little of what was important.

All work and no play makes Michael Knight vulnerable to getting himself killed.

Kitt idly wondered if they could make a children's rhyme out of that line.

"Devon, damnit, we did our best!"

"Well, Michael, your best obviously wasn't good enough."

There was an ominous silence, and Kitt didn't need to scan to know his partner's reaction to that statement.

He didn't need to be in surveillance mode to hear the door slam either. Probability calculations gave fifty-fifty as to whether it would remain on its hinges.

Michael appeared on the drive, storming out into the rain, obviously not caring for the water, his expression one of pure fury.

Kitt didn't say anything. He knew why Devon had been so caustic and he knew why Michael was so angry. So much was hanging on this case. So much risked. So many tempers fraying.

A finger tracked through muddied dust.

"Kitt?"

"Yes, Michael?"

"We did our best."

"Yes, we did, Michael."

"It wasn't good enough."

"Then we simply try again."

Michael didn't immediately answer, his fingers tracing patterns on the Trans Am's paintwork. Rain ran down his forehead and dripped off his nose.

"Michael, you need rest."

"I need to…" He stopped talking, his fingers withdrawing. He paused just a moment, before hunching slightly in his jacket and limping off into the rain.

The night swallowed him, but Kitt's scanners took no heed of the darkness. They followed as he wandered into the gardens, somewhat aimlessly.

Kitt sighed again.

Mud ran off him in rivulets.

Sometimes he wondered if it was worth all the pain.

All the heartache.

They made a difference, that much was certain. But at what cost? How much were they willing to pay?

How much were they willing to lose?

And what had already been lost?

The rain drummed on his shell, but Kitt was no longer listening.

-o-o-o-


	35. Lifelines

Lifelines  
By Gumnut  
10 Jun 2005

The hand was somewhat thin and soft as the old woman held it in the light. Looking at the man it belonged to, she would never have thought it would be as such. He had a ruggedness to him, a sharpness in his eyes that spoke of determination and strength.

Yet the skin was supple and smooth.

"Well, what do you see?"

"Patience, dearie, we must not rush things."

She made a show of peering studiously through her glasses, as if straining to see.

His lifeline was long – at least that was good news, though it wavered in several places, wandering off its path several times. Hardship. It had to be. Dramatic change.

Oh, and this. This time when she narrowed her eyes it was with genuine interest. "You will have a son."

The young man smiled and clasped the hand of the woman next to him with glee. But the palm reader hadn't finished.

"No…two sons." She frowned, it wasn't clear. Something was not quite right. "But they will not be of your body, but of your heart."

The young couple stared at her. She had no answers for them. She could only read what was written.

It was the young woman who spoke first, curiosity in her eyes. "Please continue."

Maria looked down at the hand again, curious herself to find out more. This was a very interesting case.

The young man fidgeted. "Please hold still."

Again she found herself frowning. That couldn't be right. She rubbed his palm with her thumb, but no, it was the same. "Two will die and two will be born, but death will always follow."

"What?" The young man was frowning. "That's gibberish."

She looked at him calmly. "I only report what I see."

He rolled his eyes, but his young woman elbowed him. He didn't say anything else.

Maria glanced between the two of them. Obviously it had been the woman who had prompted this visit. The young man was obviously being the tolerant one…to a point.

She continued with what she had been saying before he rudely interrupted her. "You will share the fight and many battles will be won, but the war will continue."

"Damn."

She didn't comment on that.

"And remember that the indestructible is the most vulnerable of all, for the only beacon in the dark is a night."

"Who? What?" He looked almost angry now. Perhaps she should let this one go. "More gibberish." He turned to the woman. "I don't know why I let you talk me into this, Amelia. Our last night together and we are wasting it here." And with that, he stood up and left.

The woman apologised profusely, handing over the required coinage and hurried after him. "Devon, honey, it was only a little fun." Her voice faded into the distance as they moved further away.

Maria rubbed her own hands together before putting the money away.

Probably just as well she hadn't told him the rest.

-o-o-o-  
FIN.

.


	36. Letting rubber burn

Title: Letting rubber burn  
Fandom: Knight Rider  
Characters: Michael & Kitt  
Prompt: burn (**thekittchen**)  
Word Count: 585  
Rating: PG, just for fun  
Summary: It wasn't what he was designed for.

Letting rubber burn  
A scribble for the word 'burn'  
By Gumnut  
14 Jul 06

"You call that a car?"

Michael turned casually to face the man who had followed him from the bar. "I do."

The man, tall, a little beefy, more in the muscles than the brain, wandered haughtily over to Kitt and began inspecting the Trans Am by street lamp. "Nice set of fancy lights you have on that dash there. Useful at Christmas, I bet." Michael kept his polite smile in place, but internally he cringed as the man's thick fingers left smudges on the windows.

"No twin tail pipes? What have you got powering this domestic piece of crap? Steam?"

Now that almost turned the smile into a grin. "Something like that."

The man looked up at him a moment, his grubby fingers this time leaving prints all over Kitt's spoiler.

"And you think you can beat me in this thing?"

"Pretty much."

He frowned at Michael and for a moment former cop thought his bluff was blown. But the two neurons that had sparked something resembling thought in the man didn't have the stamina to maintain it. His over confident smirk returned. "Okay. I'll see you out front." And he wandered off, assured of his supremacy.

Michael tried but he couldn't hide his own smirk as he turned away from him, heading for the driver's door.

Predictably, it wasn't even open before Kitt started.

"Michael!"

"I know."

"That man-"

"I know."

"Did you see what he-?"

"I know. I promise to clean them off when we're finished." He started the engine.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because, that's why."

"Michael, sense is mandatory in any form of communication."

He looked back as he reversed the car out of the parking space. "I doubt that."

"Michael-?"

"Kitt, the man needs to be taken down a peg or two." The Trans Am pulled out onto the road and Michael flicked the headlights on.

"And you think you and I are the ones to do it?"

"Well, yeah. We're supposed to make a difference aren't we?"

"I don't think this was quite what Wilton Knight imagined for my purpose."

"Yeah? Well, Wilton Knight needed to get out more."

"Michael!"

"Aww, c'mon, Kitt. The guy called you "domestic crap'"

"And you said I run on steam."

"Steam turned the course of civilisation as we know it. What's wrong with comparing you to that?"

"I do not run on steam."

Despite appearances to the contrary - he certainly had a royal head of the stuff at the moment. "Kitt, do you want to show this guy what you're made of or not?"

There was silence for a moment. "It was not what I was designed to do."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

Kitt didn't answer, distracted by the appearance of their challenger. Red and with as many automotive attachments as its owner could slap on to it, the suped-up Chevy was a sight to behold.

"He thinks that contraption can outrun me?"

Michael bit his lip to keep from smirking. "Uh huh."

As they pulled up alongside the racer, he smiled calmly through the window at the other man. The guy was grinning madly and revving his engine enough to wake several neighbourhoods.

"He did call me a 'piece of crap'."

"Uh huh." Michael revved the engine just slightly, the smooth hum of turbines, music to his ears….and hardly heard over the racket from the other vehicle.

"We're not going to tell Devon are we?"

"Nope."

A moment of expectant silence.

"Then let rubber burn."

-o-o-o-  
FIN.


	37. Laughing

Laughing  
By Gumnut

"Put the top down, Kitt."

"Michael what are you doing? Our speed is nearly 200 kph, you'll get yourself a case of windburn, if not blown out of the car."

"Hah! I don't care. Today is the day!" He punched the button that lowered the roof and it was only the Trans Am's indestructible construction that prevented it from being ripped off by the wind. That same wind had no such compunctions regarding Michael's hair, and his dark curls were blown straight as he levered himself to sit on the roof cover now situated above and behind his drivers seat.

"Michael, this is foolhardy."

"I said I don't care. I want to feel the wind in my hair."

"You'll feel it in more than your hair if you don't come down from there." And it was true. Michael could feel Kitt attempting to direct the passive laser restraint system on to him, but it wasn't designed to be used in this manner, the beams flailing at him, trying to secure him.

"Kitt, live a little."

"I intend to live extensively, thankyou very much. However, that involves you doing the same. Get down from there, or I will stop the car."

"Awww, Kitt, I'm having fun." Michael giggled.

"Get down from there now."

"And if I don't, you'll do what?" He couldn't help smirking.

"Shall I provide a list of blackmail options? Shall we consider expense accounts or misused time? I'm sure Devon would be interested in both, in either case."

"You're bluffing."

"I do not bluff."

"You're a spoil sport."

"And you're fool hardy. Now get your butt back into the car before I tell on you."

Michael stared at Kitt's voice box a moment before cracking up laughing. "Since when did you become my mother?"

"Since I decided you needed one. Now get back into the car."

"No." Michael was still grinning.

Kitt didn't answer this time; he simply slowed the car down, pulled it over to the side of the road and parked. Michael's hair stopped blowing in the wind. He put on an appropriate mock pout.

"I repeat myself. You are a spoil sport."

"I am the sane member of this partnership."

"Spoil sport."

"I believe Bonnie's assessment of you has some truth in it, Michael. You are the 'nut behind the wheel'."

"Hey, that's dirty pool. No lobbing somebody else's insults."

"I use the tools I need. Now get in the car or we will be late."

"It will be your fault and I will tell on you." Confident smirk.

"Bonnie will take my side."

"Bonnie always takes your side."

"Yes."

Michael glared at the dash, but after a moment, he slid back into the driver's seat. "Yes, mom."

"Michael, behave."

Grinning. "Yes, mom."

Kitt started the engine. "You're going to keep doing that for the next several miles, aren't you?"

"Yes, mom."

There was an electronic sigh. "I had no idea that your happiness required so much suffering on my part."

"Something wrong, mom?"

There was a squeal of tyres as Kitt accelerated back on to the road, speed climbing rapidly. Michael just grinned and laughed a little more.

-o-o-o-


	38. Kitt hated it

Kitt hated it  
By Gumnut  
11 Jan 2007

Kitt hated this.

He sat outside the building chewing on his own hubcaps as Michael disappeared beyond the doors that blocked his sensors. Why did they block his sensors? He didn't know. At the moment he didn't really care. All he cared about was the fact that Michael was beyond his reach.

He tried the comlink again and received the same spiky interference.

Sometimes he cursed his driver.

"Michael you don't have to go in there."

"Kitt, we've had this discussion before. We've tried everything else and while I iknow you don't like it, I see no choice."

"There is always choice. Choose to stay with me."

Michael had sighed at him, then, spewing out all the reasons why he had to go into the cursed place.

If Kitt were bitter, he could possibly think his driver longed to go in there.

But then he would only be spiteful.

He hated this.

The street looked like just any other industrial zone street, though a bit empty. The Trans Am was only one of two vehicles parked, and the other looked like it had been there a decade or two. Ten point three two years to be precise according to the decay rate of its rear bumper.

The building itself looked little more than a derelict warehouse with the exception of the blank, black, AI eating hole in his scanner range. The hole that had eaten Michael.

Thirty point six two one seconds and counting.

Michael was quite capable of making an AI swear. In fact profanity had been a foreign element to his processor until he had met the man. Frustration was his existence.

And time served to exacerbate it.

Perhaps if children were not involved, Michael would be less passionate. Guilt crawled through his circuits at that thought. Kitt was as passionate about this case as Michael, it was just another instance of the AI having to share the safety of his driver with the safety of others.

He hated it.

Ninety point three five five seconds and counting.

How long did it take to search a building?

How long did it take for Michael to get into trouble?

The black space in his scanner range suddenly rippled and the briefest of audio leaked out.

Michael?

Analysis.

Gunshot.

-o-o-o-


	39. I watch them

I watch them  
By Gumnut

I watch them, you know.

I may not be there with them, but I watch them. Almost everyday, I dial up the computer to make the connection to the AI I helped create and each and every time I can't help but hold my breath waiting to hear one or the other's voice.

I never used to watch from the sidelines. I've always been a hands-on man, out there, fighting for what I think is right. Only time has forced me to take a back seat, drawn me to a less strenuous role.

Otherwise it would be me in that driver's seat.

So I watch.

I let them bear the threat, let them stand up to all those who oppose, while I sit in support with words rather than wheels, lawyers instead of lawmen.

And wait.

For them to come home.

Or not.

-o-o-o-


	40. In their eyes

In their eyes  
By Gumnut  
29 Jun 2006

I can't say I really understand it all and I most certainly do not understand why I understand what I do, but I can tell, no matter what they think.

It's in their eyes.

Something is wrong.

Devon greeted me this morning with his usual aplomb. A genuine good morning. A smile before handing over the day's assignments. But there was little substance in the task list and even less in his expression.

Bonnie wasn't smiling.

I asked, but she waved it off as a headache.

I didn't need my medical scanners to detect the lie.

And I haven't seen Michael all day. I've only his heartbeat to keep me company.

Something is wrong.

I can see it in their eyes.

And feel it.

In my soul.

-o-o-o-


	41. Favourite time of day

What is your favourite time of day?  
By Gumnut

Dawn. Break of day. The sun reaching out over the hills, the plain still in shadow, quiet, the first early morning workers on the roads, the occasional jogger and a hush, a lull before the city wakes. Dew still on leaves and frosted blades of grass. Kitt playing trumpets in an attempt to wake me up. Morning breath. Trans Am hair.

Morning. Rush hour traffic. Sun in my eyes. Breakfast. Argument with Kitt over contents of said breakfast. Parked on a cliff overlooking a dark blue Pacific eating donuts. Case notes. Coffee. Check in with Devon. Juggle invites to the next fundraiser. Discuss possible excuses with Kitt. Get conned into it by Kitt anyway. Seagulls riding the sea breeze.

Noon. Stark bare desert landscape. Sun piercing eyes, sunglasses staring at the blurring white lines of the road. Heat haze bubbling on the horizon. Air conditioner humming under the stereo. Argument about the music playing. Reduced to blackmail in order to listen to the latest Kim Wilde album. Lunch at a roadside café in the middle of nowhere. Dust on my shoes. Argument with Kitt over contents of said lunch. Red speedometer digits blurring.

Afternoon. Running, running, chasing the bastard responsible. Vaulting over a corrugated iron fence. Dodging the bullet that slipped past my ear. Yelling into the comlink. "Kitt, I need ya!" The squeal of specialised rubber. Blur of black Trans Am, afternoon sun glinting off MBS. Fists in the dirt. Gunfire. Ricochet sparks. The click and rattle of handcuffs. Cursing.

Evening. The sun dipping towards the horizon. The city quieting after the close of business day. Soft hum of turbines idling. Scribbled case notes. "Yo, Devon!" Dinner at a nearby café. Seagulls flocking for leftovers. Argument with Kitt over contents of said dinner. Decision on whether to hole up in a hotel or hit the road for the next case. Deciding the latter.

Sunset. Reds, oranges, golds, purples, sky lit up and behind me as we head into the hills. The distant sea reflecting the colours, no longer blue but a deeper purple. The east darkening, the first star breaking out. Stirring Kitt's pot. Outraged AI.

Night. TV in the Trans Am. Kitt's commentary. Stars. Yawning. The soft hum of the engine. Headlights spotting the road ahead. Highway reflectors leaving spots on my retinas. Rumbling semis decked out in Christmas lights. Still night. Heat lightning on the horizon.

Midnight. Silence except for the Trans Am's engine. No speaking because words aren't needed. Sleepy eyes. Comfortably sliding in my seat.

Hour of the wolf. Recorded snores. Thanks, Kitt.

_Michael rolled over in his bed, for once dreaming something not unpleasant. Of times gone, of friends lost. Dreaming of a time when he had made a difference. Dreaming of a time when he was Michael Knight. And cherishing the fact he could forget, just for a moment, that he wasn't that man any longer._

Favourite time of the day?

Every goddamned precious second of it.

Why?

Because life is finite. Events are finite. Every day is different and no day can be visited twice. Cherish the moments you have now, because you'll never have them again.

-o-o-o-

_Muse: Michael Knight  
Fandom: Knight Rider  
Word count: 528_


	42. Shame

_"Does she know who you really are?"_

_"No."_

_"Good, keep it that way."_

_-o-o-o-_

_He walked back into the Lodge and was surprised to not find her where he'd left her. A fleeting moment of concern before she suddenly entered from the kitchen, her hands full of a plate stacked high with edibles and a bottle of wine. "Hey. You hungry? Please say yes, 'cause I'm starved and I don't want to feel guilty"_

_"Yes." He smiled, happy to accede to the demand, but the sudden look on her face brought him up short, guilt, shame and sorrow cutting into him as he played the innocent. "What?"_

_"Have you ever had the feeling you've been some place before? Said the same things to the same person? I know it can't be true, but that's how it feels." Eyes searching his._

_Brush it off, brush it off. He forced his face to reflect nothing, to blank off, casual and honest, even though he was everything but. "C'mon, you're just too tired" In an attempt to distract, he took the plate from her hands and sat down on the rug in front of the open fire, looking away so she couldn't look into his eyes._

_She continued to stand for a moment, the strength he knew she had as stubborn as his own. "Yeah, I guess." Almost as if conceding a single point, she joined him, leaning back against pillows._

_"I guess I've been working so hard to get my life together, take care of myself." She ran a hand across her face and into her hair. "Look at me now, I can't even go home, I can't do anything without you." A pause. "I'm dependent on you." She caught his eyes and once she had them, she wouldn't let them go. "Last time I depended on someone, I lost him." His heart jumped and she fished. "His name was Michael too." Baiting breath. "Michael Long."_

_And Michael Knight stared straight back at her, not answering the challenge, not confirming, every muscle lying the skin off his face._

_And eventually Stevie looked away._

_-o-o-o-_

She found out, but it wasn't because I told her.

There is such shame in lying to one you love.

But it is even a greater shame to die and leave them behind.

-o-o-o-


	43. Dear Mr Knight

Dear Mr Knight,

I've thought about this a great deal. I've had plenty of time to think of late. I don't know what you were thinking that night when you picked me off the desert floor.

And I don't know the reasons why you did what you did.

But it is done and I have to live with it.

Even if you don't.

Think about it. Heh, I know you did, but think about it now. Wherever you are, cloud nine or next to the heater in the basement, think about it. You took a man without his consent, took his life and remade it into one to suit your purpose.

You set me up like a cue to the eight ball, shot me across the table and left the room.

I can't deny that I like being who I am. I like what I represent. And the pain is nothing new to me.

But despite the fact I wouldn't have it differently if I could….well, most of it anyway, I still resent not being asked.

Did you think of that factor? Did you consider that I might have said yes even if my life hadn't depended on it? And the face? I think Garthe has every right to be pissed.

I lost a great deal that night in the desert. And gained a great deal. But I'm afraid that although you are only one among many, I can never forgive you for the one thing you did take and can never replace.

My right to choose.

Sincerely,

Michael Insert-name-here


End file.
